


A Place to Belong

by Sarcasticles



Category: One Piece
Genre: AU, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Kinda Dark, Robin joins Doffy's crew, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-01-04 15:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18346691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasticles/pseuds/Sarcasticles
Summary: Robin was nine years old when a fallen angel from the North Blue swept into her life offering her everything she ever wanted. All he asked in exchange was that she remain loyal to the family, and to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic was born of a discord discussion that got way out of hand. I may or may not continue as inspiration strikes, but man alive do I have feelings about this AU. It was written in one sitting and is basically unedited, so if you notice any typos feel free to let me know.

The four senior members of the Donquixote family were silent as their Young Master stared at the daily paper. It was difficult—and dangerous—to try to read his emotions when he was not smiling, his eyes hidden behind the tint of his ever-present glasses. Doflamingo flipped through the pages, and then he flipped through them again, reading each line twice as slowly. The crinkling of paper was the only sound as the Donquixote Pirates held their collective breath, waiting for their captain’s decision.

Finally he set down the paper and tented his fingers in front of his face. “I want her.”

Still the executives did not speak. Long gone were the days when they held any influence over Doflamingo’s decisions. He was more than their captain—he was the Young Master for their budding family. It wasn’t their duty to question, but to execute the will of their King.

“Traveling to the West Blue will be perilous,” Vergo said. He was careful for his words not to sound like a question, but a simple statement of fact.

“I made it to the East for Roger’s execution,” Doflamingo said dismissively.

“You were alone,” Diamante said.

Donquioxte Doflamingo rose to his feet, exuding a presence that pressed against his four closest advisers. Doflamingo’s ambition was a wild, hungry thing, like that of a feral wolf. The weight of his gaze was too much for his executives, and they lowered their heads deferentially. Doflamingo’s grin was a terrible thing to behold.

“You guys can handle things for a bit while I go hunting, can’t you?”

* * *

“Where is the Demon Child?! Damn that brat, this is _her_ fault!”

Robin dismissed the ear she had sprouted on her captain’s back, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum as she tried to fight against the panic rising within her. She couldn’t escape if she couldn’t think, and she _needed_ to escape if she wanted to live.

An explosion rocked the ship, throwing Robin off of her feet. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized the sound had come from somewhere within the bowels of the ship, likely from their supply of cannonballs and black powder. Several smaller explosions followed shortly after, causing the deck to list dangerously under her feet.

There was no way the ship could survive that kind of damage, which meant Robin needed to make it to the lifeboats as soon as possible. All around her she could hear men screaming, either in fury or death as they tried vainly to fight against the devastating surprise attack.

Was it the Government? Robin saw no sign of marine ships, but that didn’t rule out CP9 and their terrible power. Unbidden, the memory flashed in Robin’s mind of her mother screaming in pain from their mysterious martial arts. If they found her now…

No. Robin couldn’t think about Ohara. All that mattered was survival. She ran to the lifeboats, dodging corpses that had been sliced to ribbons. Her foot slid on the blood, and before she could counterbalance a strong hand grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the deck.

“You did this!” her captain shouted while Robin clawed at his hands. “Now _die_ , and we’ll go to hell together!”

Black spots danced on behind Robin’s eyes. She sprouted as many arms as she was able, but she couldn’t concentrate enough for the attack to be effective. Her captain’s desperation made him strong, too strong to fight against. Robin felt the whole of his body weight crushing her, and her lungs burned for want of air. It was too much. The extra limbs disappeared in a flurry of cherry blossoms.

_I can’t die here._

Her arms went limp as darkness ate at the edge of her vision.

_I’m going to die._

Just as suddenly as he came, her captain was wrenched off of her. His nails dug into the soft skin of Robin’s throat as he was thrown forcibly backward. She rolled to her side and coughed and coughed and coughed until she couldn’t any more. _Move!_ her brain commanded uselessly while her body refused to obey. _Move before he comes back!_

A shadow passed overhead.

Robin curled defensively on herself, waiting for the blow, but amazingly none came.

“So you’re the Demon Child.”

It was a man’s voice, smooth and deep. The calmness in it terrified her, and Robin tried to scramble away from it, only to slip once more on the blood that flowed freely down the deck.

“Don’t be afraid. I don’t want to hurt you.”

They all said that at first. A flash of fury cut through the confusion and the pain, and Robin crossed her arms. “ _Tres fleur!”_

He laughed again. “Cute ability. Seems handy. Heh, handy. I bet you hear that one a lot.”

Robin couldn’t move. No matter how much she tried, her limbs were locked in place. A cold, paralyzing fear spread through her chest like the fingers of an icy hand, snatching the air right out of her lungs. Eyes wide open, she stared at the man standing before her.

He was tall. So tall Robin wasn’t sure he was human, with true blond hair raked in short spikes, like he ran his fingers through it so much it got stuck that way. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses and a hyena’s grin stretched grotesquely across his face. A lithe frame was given the illusion of mass by a feathered coat, his pants a garish pattern of pink and orange.

He settled into a chair made of writhing threads, one hand propping his head up while the other was stretched out before him in a way that reminded Robin of a puppet master. Behind him, Robin’s captain was strung in the air, his limbs contorted in a way that should have been impossible and his mouth open in a silent scream.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the man repeated, his tone almost playful. It was then Robin realized that everyone else was dead, killed seemingly by this one person.

“This fool, on the other hand, isn’t so lucky,” he continued. A finger twitched, and the captain swung in a lazy circle. “I hate fools like him most of all. It’s like he didn’t even understand how special you are.”

Robin wasn’t sure she would have spoke even if her mouth hadn’t been frozen by his strange Devil Fruit.

“Tell me, Demon Child, do you know who I am?”

Trembling, Robin tried to nod, and was surprised to find that she was able. She tested her voice, “Y-yes, sir.”

This startled a laugh out of the man. “So polite! How anyone could mistreat an adorable kid like you is beyond me. People are so _shortsighted,_ don’t you think? It's a sad era, this. Not enough ambition or sense.”

Robin was too afraid to answer, but the man didn’t expect her to. He rose to his feet, and sauntered towards her with the strange bow-legged walk of someone who spent most of their time on a ship. He cupped her face with a hand, surprisingly gentle, and lightly ran his thumb over a bruise that covered her right cheekbone.

“Who did this to you?”

His voice was so soft, almost gentle if not for the fact that it was tightly wound with an anger that sliced through any façade of kindness.

“Was it him?”

Robin’s vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. She didn’t understand what was happening, or how she had caught the attention a pirate who wasn’t even from the West Blue.

“I asked you a question, Nico Robin. Is this bastard the man who dared lay a hand on you?”

The sound of her name on his lips made her shudder, but she managed to breathe, “Yes, sir.”

“I thought as much.”

Suddenly the force freezing Robin in place vanished. Every instinct Robin had was screaming at her to run, but something greater kept her feet firmly in place. Donquioxte Doflamingo was angry, yes, but his fury wasn’t directed at her. This was completely at odds with everything she’d known since the Buster Call, or indeed her miserable existence in the years before that. He’d saved her life.

But _why?_

“Do you want to kill him?”

“What?” Robin asked, completely blindsided by the question.

“This bastard,” Doflamingo repeated. “Do you want to kill him?”

His fingers gave another little twitch, and the captain’s body contorted even further. Blood was dripping from both wrists and ankles, and Robin saw it slide down an invisible string before falling to the deck.

 _String_. Donquioxte Doflamingo could control _string._

She moistened suddenly-dry lips. She’d read about what he was capable of, his exploits reaching a level of infamy that crossed even oceans. Robin didn’t believe half of what the paper said, but now she was second-guessing that assumption. All around her were the slaughtered remains of her former crew, and the ship itself was quickly sinking. A pirate’s temper was a fickle thing, and Robin had to keep him happy if she wanted to survive the day.

“I hate him,” Robin said quietly, surprising herself with her honesty. She felt her hands clench into fists, her nails cutting crescent moons into her palms, memories washing over her of all the time’s he’d hurt and belittled her. She was terrified of Doflamingo and his intentions, but she wasn’t sorry about what he’d done.

Doflamingo’s smile stretched even further, a feat that Robin was convinced should have been impossible. “Is it true you can read the poneglyphs?” He cut her off as Robin opened her mouth to answer. “And don’t lie to me. I’ll know if you do.”  

Robin’s breath stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard.

“It’s not a difficult question. Can you read them on not?”

“I…I can.”

Doflamingo threw his head back and _howled_ with laughter. The sound sent a shiver down Robin’s spine, and it didn’t stop, not even for him to catch his breath.

When he finally regained control of himself, Doflamingo reached into his coat and produced a thin knife that was almost too small for his massive hands. Robin scrambled to run, convinced he was going to stab her, but Doflamingo was quicker. He didn’t even use his ability, grabbing Robin by one shoulder before she could turn around. He pressed the knife into her hands.

“I have a proposition for you, Demon Child,” he said. “See, I’m in the business of collecting talent so that it can be used to its full potential. You…you’re remarkable. A true one of a kind. I bet there weren’t too many kids running around that little island of yours studying dead languages.”

It wasn’t a question, but Robin shook her head anyway.

“I’m the only person in the world that can tap into your true potential, and unlike this asshole I take care of my own,” Doflamingo said, his voice low, intense, _persuasive._ “Come with me and you’ll never be hurt again. I’ll feed you, put clothes on your back, help you hunt for those rocks of yours. I only ask for one thing in return.”

Doflamingo kneeled next to her, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “A family’s nothing without loyalty. Would you like to join my family, Nico Robin?”

Robin’s eyes widened. He had no way of knowing how deep his words cut her, worse than any knife. The last time someone complimented her was on Ohara, when the archeologists threw a surprise party to celebrate her passing her exams.

But even they excluded Robin from their research in the end. This man…this _stranger…_ was offering to help Robin accomplish her dream.

_Someday you’ll find people to protect you! Stay with them, live with them!_

Saul’s words opened an already-raw wound, and Robin tried to blink back tears. Her whole body hurt from being thrown about like a ragdoll, and her throat was sore from nearly being strangled. For a year she’d gone from place to place like a vagrant only to be betrayed by the people who said they would protect her. She’d known hunger and thirst and pain, both physical and emotional. Every night she was afraid to sleep for fear that someone would attack her.

“All I ask is you pass a little test,” Doflamingo said. “It’s simple, really, but I have to make sure you’ve got what it takes. The weak have no place on my crew.”

“What do you want from me?” Robin rasped.

He chuckled deep in his throat and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Kill him. Cut the last tie that binds you to this miserable garbage heap and follow me. Together we’ll set the whole world on fire.”

Oh.

Was that all?

Robin looked down at the knife in her hands. She’d killed, of course, but never on purpose. A small sliver of Ohara always stopped her from taking another person’s life into her own hands.

Not that it’d done her any good. No matter how much she tried, the world still saw her as the Demon Child of Ohara, a monster who wanted to destroy the world. They were wrong, and had always been wrong. But maybe it was time to show them what a real demon looked like.

Doflamingo let Robin’s former captain fall to the ground in a boneless heap. He moaned piteously, and for a moment she hesitated.

Then she saw her own blood caked into his nailbeds. Her throat burned, and more tears spilled down her face. She’d done _nothing_ to him, and he tried to kill her anyway. Shoving away every remaining doubt, she felt only the anger and the pain that she tried to suppress for too long, all in the name of surviving another day.

Robin didn't just want to survive. She wanted to  _live._ If that meant allying with Donquioxte Doflamingo...so be it. The world hadn't offered her anyone better.

It was over in one quick cut. It was more than he deserved, but unlike him Robin was not a monster. When the deed was done Robin turned back to Doflamingo. Wordlessly she offered up the bloody knife.

He pressed it back into her hands with a chuckle. “Keep it, kiddo. You've earned it.”


	2. Chapter 2

When Robin was with Saul she had never felt that he was too big, or she too small. Even when they first met he had not been frightening, or even intimidating. He had simply been...Saul.

Donquixote Doflamingo seemed like a giant in comparison. Everything about him was larger than life, from the way he dressed, talked, even how he moved was spectacular. Robin was whisked from the sinking ship full of slaughtered pirates on his back, tucked snuggly under that fluffy pink coat that didn’t seem to match his murderous grin. Together they flew across the West Blue and all the way to the North, where the rest of his so-called family resided.

It wasn’t true flight. Not really. But the difference was so slight it seemed pedantic to squabble over the details. Doflamingo didn’t bother to hide himself as they soared across the horizon, brazen enough even to fly past a marine warship out on patrol.

If he was bothered by Robin’s weight he didn’t show it, nor did his teeth chatter with cold like hers did as they skimmed the underbellies of countless clouds. Robin spent the first day lightheaded and almost deliriously giddy in the thin air, her bizarre change of circumstance grinding the gears of her mind to a sudden halt and making it impossible to think straight.

But the journey was a long one, and as always Robin adjusted, just in time to be terrified of the mess she found herself in. She didn’t know what to think about Doflamingo’s strange offer, except that she didn’t trust it. Saul promised her that she would find a family of her own, but Saul was wrong. Doflamingo wanted her ability. She was sure of it.

What Robin was less sure of was if it mattered. Their first day traveling together Doflamingo found a small port town where they could rest. He bought her new clothes ( _I wouldn’t let a bitch whelp in those rags_ ) and found them rooms with a bath attached ( _You smell like smoke and blood_ ). For the first time in as long as she could remember Robin had shoes that didn’t pinch her feet and food in her belly. She didn’t have to worry about going to sleep, because if Doflamingo was going to go through all this trouble of finding her, he wasn’t going to let her be killed the first night she fell into his grasp. She was safe.

Kind of. Maybe. She hoped.

Hope was a dangerous medicine. It hurt as much as it healed, and since the fall of Ohara Robin learned it was easier to not let herself feel rather than be burned time and again by false promises and the knifing sting of betrayal.

Until now.

Doflamingo traveled the distance between seas faster than Robin possibly could have imagined. He spoke little while they were skyward, and by the time he deemed it time to rest Robin was so exhausted that she could only sleep. Less than a week they were making camp on the cliffs of the Red Line, one last day in the open before reuniting with his crew. A surge of nerves was made worse by his grin, which seemed even larger than normal now that they were nearly back to his home sea.

Doflamingo didn’t do anything so uncouth as _camp_. Every time they stopped he knew some local or other: a weapons supplier, a contact in his spy network, a pirate crew dancing on the strings of his ever-increasing influence. These men and women bent over backwards to appease his every whim and hardly noticed Robin at all. He wasn’t just a giant among men. Donquixote Doflamingo was a god.

Robin contemplated this new revelation on the precipice of the Red Line, nibbling on a chunk of bread she’d snuck from the supper table. The ocean spread far and wide, illuminated by the setting sun. On one side was the North Blue, to the other the West. It was funny, in a way, that the water looked just the same on both sides, when Robin knew her life would irreversibly change the moment she stepped over.

Something tugged on her wrist, freezing her hand halfway to her mouth. Robin tried to jerk free, but a sharp stinging sensation stopped that at once. Squinting, she could just see a gossamer thread glinting in the golden light. A shadow passed overhead.

“Stealing food is the action of a common thief.”

The thread grew tighter, and Robin dropped the bread. “I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“No excuses, little Nico,” Doflamingo tutted. “No one in my family goes hungry.”

He kicked the food off the edge of the Red Line. Robin watched mournfully as it tumbled into obscurity, disappearing into the mist below, but didn’t dare speak out. It wasn’t even that she was hungry—they _had_ already had their supper—but the last year had taught her that food was to be hoarded and only consumed when truly safe. Or what passed for safe in her world.

“Little Nico,” Doflamingo repeated, saying the two words slowly, as if savoring the taste of them on his tongue. Releasing her wrist, he settled down crosslegged beside her. “Tell me about the Ancient Weapons.”

Robin shrunk down on herself. “I don’t know anything. Ohara didn’t care about the weapons, they just wanted to study history.”

A ghost of a frown flashed across his features. “Then they were fools.”

Robin’s head snapped up, both in shock and outrage, but Doflamingo raised a finger before she could protest.

“The World Government wouldn’t have dared go against one of the weapons. What good is a bunch of research if it doesn’t reach the people?” He shook his head. “If Ohara fought against the world and won they would have been hailed as heroes. Now they’re remembered as devils. You tell me which is better.”

“If the World Government just let them study—“

“But the World Government didn’t, did they?” Doflamingo said, his voice as sharp as a knife. “And instead of fighting back Ohara rolled over and died. They were weak. _Cowards_. Too afraid of their own potential to ever realize it fully. Morals are all well and good when it’s just talk, but I’ve never seen one stop a bullet. If you want something in life, you had better be damn sure you’re strong enough to defend it.”

“They _were_ heroes,” Robin said stubbornly, bunching her hands into fists.

“Dead heroes. If you’re as smart as you pretend to be, you should know that history is written by the winners.”

Robin looked up at him for the first time. “Not all history.”

For the briefest moment Doflamingo seemed taken aback. He recovered so quickly Robin wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it, and that wolf’s grin returned, bigger than ever. “The poneglyphs.”

She nodded.

He set his hands on her shoulders, his massive body blocking out the setting sun. Its rays struck his tousled blond hair, giving him a celestial glow that didn’t match his devilish expression. “I don’t plan on losing, little Nico. Do you understand what that means?”

She did, but she wasn’t sure what she thought of it.

“Then come along, then. It’s time we get you home.”

Robin took his extended hand, and he swung her effortlessly on his back as they had so many times since starting their journey. “Now?” she asked.

“The rest of the Family got a little over anxious to meet you,” Doflamingo said. “They’re waiting for us on the other side of the cliffs.

Without further warning he leaped into the air, throwing out a thick string into the clouds. Robin clung to his neck, ducking her head into his shoulder to keep the wind from stinging her eyes. Her knife was a comforting weight at her hip, hanging from the belt of her pants (sadly more practical than the dress displayed at the storefront). She could fight if needed. The problem was she wasn’t sure if it was needed.

Like all children, Robin had a cat’s instincts about adults, honed by years of mistreatment on Ohara and sharpened further after going on the run. It didn’t take long for her to grasp a person’s true intentions. Yet Doflamingo defied all expectations. His strength was monstrous, but he treated her with nothing but kindness. He talked about the weapons with a blasé disregard for the ethical quandaries their existence posed, but spoke of his Family with warm regard.

Doflamingo was a contradiction wrapped in an enigma. A puzzle Robin wasn’t sure she’d ever solve.

Their flight took only minutes. Soon they were settled on the deck of a massive galleon bearing Doflamingo’s mark. Robin was shuttled from Doflamingo’s back to the deck, and in a surge of unfamiliar nerves Robin wished she could stay hidden under his feathery coat.

Their appearance caused a flurry of activity. Four massive men as tall as Doflamingo or taller rushed to greet them. Another jumped from the crow’s nest, landing lightly despite his bulk. More came from below deck: A suave gentlemen in a three-piece suit, a woman wearing horn-rimmed glasses, a masked man with a shock of hair longer and spikier than Doflamingo’s, a bald man wearing a track suit that accentuated a muscular frame.

“The Young Master has returned!” someone exclaimed.

Robin had to fight the urge to duck behind Doflamingo’s leg as the woman let out a high-pitched squeal and rushed towards them. Doflamingo stepped aside as she reached down and pinched Robin’s cheek.

“She’s adorable! Young Master, I thought you were going to get a demon.”

Doflamingo chuckled. “Appearances can be deceiving. Little Nico, meet Giolla. Giolla, Nico Robin.”

Giolla was brushed aside by a giant, gloopy man introduced as Trebol. Robin backed away to avoid the snot dripping out his nose into the man in the three piece suit called Senior Pink. Standing over him was the silent, imposing Pica and a man with a spoon stuck to his cheek named Vergo.

The fat man was Machvise, the man with the flowering hat Diamante. Then there was the masked Gladius and scowling Lao G. Together they circled around Robin, talking and asking questions. Doflamingo allowed them to chatter for a minute or two, and the attention was almost...nice? Everyone was smiling and happy at their captain’s return. No one was afraid, or even looked like they wanted to hurt her. Giolla in particular was ecstatic, and rather than being nervous Robin felt herself relax. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to do that.

Eventually Doflamingo raised his hand, and immediately his crew fell silent. “There will be plenty of time for everyone to get to know each other later. Machvise, get back on watch. Giolla, Robin will be staying with you. Make sure everything’s ready for her to settle in for the night.”

“Yes, Young Master,” Giolla said, bowing her head deferentially before backing away.

“I’ll be in with the executives in a minute to go over our new course. Until then, carry on as you were.” There were more murmurs of “Yes, Young Master,” before they all broke away, leaving Robin and Doflamingo alone. He clasped a hand on her shoulder

“I have one more surprise for you.”

Robin’s heart pounded in her chest as he led her below deck. The dark was more pronounced, the shadows longer, and Doflamingo had to duck down to keep from hitting his head. She was twisted in a maze of corridors and hopelessly lost by the time Doflamingo stopped her in front of a small room. He opened the door and gestured for her to enter.

Robin could only stare at the sight in front of her, convinced she’d suddenly entered a fever dream. _Books_. There were books everywhere, stacked in shelves from floor to ceiling, with more setting in crates waiting to be organized. There were small books, fat books, books of every color under the sun. Many looked new, but she spied a few that appeared to be very, very old. Robin gave Doflamingo a questioning look, but he only smiled, pushing her forward a half-step.

“I sent word ahead for them to pick you up a few things while we were on the way. I think this should hold you for a little while.”

For a moment Robin forgot how to breathe. Tearing her gaze from him, she gaped at the library and whispered, “This is for me?”

“All for you,” Doflamingo said with a smirk. “I expect you to put it to good use.”

Robin approached the nearest shelf reverently. With a shaking hand she touched the spine of a thick tome, its cover glossy and new. She tried to read the title, but found she couldn’t as her vision misted over. She scrubbed her eyes to force the tears away, but a lump of emotion stuck firmly in her throat and her chest felt tight and heavy.

“I won’t let you down,” Robin promised, her voice thick.

And she meant it. This simple act of kindness—so foreign and bizarre—was almost more than she could comprehend. Not too long ago Robin had killed for the privilege of joining Donquixote Doflamingo’s family. It was still early yet, but she was beginning to think she’d rather die than be anywhere else.

Doflamingo laughed a laugh that only days ago would have chilled her very bones. “I’m counting on it.”

* * *

It was a week after Nico Robin’s integration to the crew that Vergo knocked on Doflamingo’s door. Doflamingo pushed aside the most recent reports of his burgeoning weapon’s trade and bid his closest advisor to enter. Vergo closed the door softly, his expression almost sheepish behind his dark glasses.

“What is it?” Doflamingo asked.

“I’ve come to apologize, Young Master.”

Doflamingo narrowed his eyes. “What for?”

“I was...hesitant when you decided to bring Nico Robin from the West Blue. I thought it was an unnecessary risk. I was wrong, and I’m deeply sorry for questioning your judgement.”

“She’s coming along that well, huh?”

Vergo nodded gravely. “The girl’s a genius, and her Devil Fruit one of the most versatile I’ve ever seen. With a little training she’ll be an invaluable resource.”

“That isn’t enough,” Doflamingo said. He leaned back in his chair and looked out at the endless sea. The sea he’d one day conquer and rule as king. “I want more, Vergo.”

“Young Master?” he asked.

“She’s a runner,” Doflamingo said. “She’d rather hide than fight back. I can’t have that.”

“She’s young,” Vergo said. “There’s still time to hone her instincts.”

Doflamingo turned the full weight of his gaze on the executive of the Heart Seat. “I accept your apology, and as recompense you’ll be the one in charge of Nico Robin. I want wolves following me, not deer. Do you understand?”

He bowed his head. “I understand, Young Master. I won’t disappoint you again.”

”See that you don’t.”

And as Vergo went to fulfill the will of his Master, another Donquixote was sitting at another desk, one a thousand miles and several seas away. He too was reading a report, which he found just as pressing as the one that occupied his brother’s attention at that very moment.

DEMON CHILD SPOTTED SAILING WITH DOFLAMINGO FAMILY

Rosinante doused his cigarette, missing the ashtray and scorching the polished wood of his desk. A pit formed in his stomach as he looked at the grainy photograph a cipher pol agent managed to send just before being brutally murdered for the crime of being caught doing surveillance on the elder Donquixote brother. He was holding the hand of a little girl. The child’s face was turned toward the camera, her expression identical to the bounty poster attached as reference. 

“Doffy, what the hell are you trying to do?”

But Rosinante knew the answer. He just wished it wasn’t true.


End file.
